


you write in the language of poems

by harajukucrepes



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Actually everything in here is pretty adult in nature, Allusions to government censorship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Both were in relationships, Heterosexual Character, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Open Relationships, Stream of Consciousness, bottom!Taeil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harajukucrepes/pseuds/harajukucrepes
Summary: Songs were written in verses, poems were read in stanzas, books were written in chapters—Sicheng knew that their story would be written in the sounds of the rainy days and the tunes that came with them.*or, Winwin & Taeil meeting each other while searching for a way out of past relationships
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Moon Taeil, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Original Character(s), Moon Taeil/Original Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26
Collections: Winwin Fic Fest Round 1





	you write in the language of poems

**Author's Note:**

> \- the prompt was very challenging and unconventional, so i hope i delivered!  
> \- in case you're wondering, here's the original prompt so you if you think you might be uncomfortable / triggered, kindly click away
> 
>  **Prompt:** two men, both in relationships, which are slowly breaking. they are searching a way out, seemingly helpless until they meet.  
> its just another rainy, draining day, their vision for life looking yet again so blurry they wished for an end to come, unknown of that life changing moment slowly making its way to the both of them.  
>  **Pluses:** strangers to lovers, broken relationships, breaking and healing, (heavy) angst turned into adulthood love  
>  **Minuses:** playful love, too much fluff  
>  **Details:** Contains triggering material

*

you write in the language of poems

*

It should have rained that day.

It was raining when they met, it was raining when they first kissed, it was raining when Taeil said it to him and yet, at that time, the sky decided to shine a scorching orange.

It was a cruel joke designed to subject him to a lifetime of deprivation—Sicheng was sure of that.

*

The biggest compliment Sicheng had ever gotten in his life was from his Chinese Language teacher for an essay he wrote when he was in 10th grade. They were tasked to write an observations of the trends in modern Chinese Contemporary fiction and Sicheng chose to elaborate about the way authors using modern literature as their medium of criticism towards the government often had their efforts backfired because while the antidote for oppression would be satire, the fuel to cement power retention had always been failed sabotage.

If Teacher Liu had been impressed by the arguments Sicheng made in his essay, she didn’t show it. In fact, she made it clear that Sicheng’s clear omission of the feminist angle (by not pointing out the lack of it) has made his essay fall flat on the height of its grandiosity. She had, however, commended him for using Jiang Rong’s only work, _Wolf Totem_ , as the signature example for inadvertently suggesting fascism as the alternative to communism. Sicheng must had taken it very hard, because his friends had all suggested rather nasty pranks to make Teacher Liu pay for her harshness especially when all the other teachers had nothing but awe for Sicheng’s writing abilities.

Therefore, when Teacher Liu later called Sicheng to see her in the teacher’s room, he was prepared to face punishments, only to have the teacher gifting him a few books from her personal collection.

“Don’t open them until you reach home,” the teacher said to him. “We are not supposed to have them here.”

It was when he reached home that he understood his teacher’s intention, because while the books wore the covers of the most common titles, the insides contained pages from the ones banned by the government and between the pile, came a short little note that said:

_Thought you’d like some of these I got here, remember to keep them a secret._

_p.s you write in the language of poems and I admired that_

This simple gesture of his teacher’s that didn’t go against her earlier criticisms nor contradict her intentions left such a deep impression on Sicheng that while he appreciated the high praise, he didn’t think he had ever lived up to it.

*

The first time he saw Taeil, the rain was mild and Jamiroquai was playing in the cafe.

He never got to find out the name of the song that day, but he remembered feeling like the song was asking him to go on a road trip in a convertible and have a picnic next to the lake in the middle of nowhere.

(For some reason, the scene he was imagining looked like it was lifted from an old Hollywood movie, but he tried to think nothing of it.)

He remembered the tune of the song clearly because the man he was eyeing looked like he wanted nothing else but everything that the song had suggested.

*

The text message was short.

_I’ve made my decision._

Four words, one sentence—and the last 7 years were effectively erased.

*

You don’t have to call me hyung, Taeil said before slipping his arms around his waist from behind him, his chest against Sicheng’s back.

It’s ok, Sicheng insisted, I’ve gotten used to it. More than being respectful, it was because he had gotten used to being able to instinctively tell the ages of the people he had to interact with.

Taeil responded by kissing the small of his back.

Then get un-used to that so that you’ll call me by just my name.

*

It was raining cats and dogs when Sicheng bumped into him on the sidewalk near midnight and that was when he gave him his name and what he did for a living.

Taeil gave him his name as well and the fact that he was a music producer—with one extra detail, despite the fact that it was their first official conversation (but the third time seeing each other).

I was waiting for my boyfriend, he said dejectedly, but I don’t think he’s coming.

*

Sicheng had gotten used to being told that he made people proud—his parents loved his career prospects, his friends loved the apartment whenever they came over, his sister said she bragged about him to her son all the time, and his nephew, well, he would be proud of him in no time.

Apparently everyone but himself, Yanqi, and probably, Teacher Liu.

Sometimes he still could hear his own failure vocalised in Teacher Liu’s voice.

What a shame, it said, you could have been so much more.

*

Sicheng had his own suspicions, but it was when they met for the 7th time that Taeil confirmed it.

I lied, he said. Jake isn’t my boyfriend, not exactly.

He hooked his arm around Sicheng’s neck and pulled him down— _thank goodness I’m used to tall boys_ —and kissed him.

Sicheng decided that he liked it.

*

Yanqi was his first crush, his first love, his first girlfriend—for the longest time, he thought she would be his one and only.

It was the same as how he had thought that words were his past, his present and his future and the way for the longest time, he had thought that he would go on to live his life as a seeker for the beauty in languages.

Taeil kissed him like he was indulging himself— _like it was nothing to him, like it wouldn’t mean anything to him_ —that Sicheng felt himself taking away some taste of freedom from his tongue.

*

The second time he saw Taeil, it was in the same cafe, this time playing Kate Bush. Outside, the rain had just stopped.

Taeil was speaking in English to the person who was behind the counter in the cafe and he was the one who handed him the computer and subsequently, the power to set the music. Sicheng didn’t know much about the music that he chose, but he knew he liked it.

It was when he finished his coffee and started to take his leave that the familiar Jamiroquai started playing again and it was by taking a peek at the computer that Sicheng managed to catch the title of the song.

It was _Seven Days in Sunny June._

*

It didn’t start raining until he got himself erect and pushed himself inside Taeil; the moan that Taeil let out, strangely, harmonised perfectly with Amy Winehouse who was singing in the background.

He would have thought that Taeil would know by now, but still he cringed a little when Taeil asked if he had made love to a man before. If you weren’t prepared, he had said, it would hurt a lot. The first time I did it, it hurt so much that I couldn’t walk for two days.

Sicheng didn’t like the kind of humour he was making, so he pushed him away to establish his boundaries, but Taeil pulled him back and told him that he was joking about hurting.

Of course it would hurt, because it would hurt a woman too, you know? He explained. Just imagine that, a rod with a mind of its own entering your body, pulsating like that, going in and out, and it’s supposed to go faster and faster before it squirts something out?

He slipped his hands around Sicheng’s belt and fiddled with his belt buckle. God, he whispered, if only one of us was familiar with how that would feel.

It thundered when Sicheng shuddered as he came and he asked:

How did that feel?

Taeil closed his eyes and let Sicheng collapse on his chest.

_It felt so good._

*

He once accidentally saw Taeil kissing Jake—it was the picture of his caller ID on Taeil’s phone.

He tried to forget the image, but he couldn’t stop his mind from imagining them actually kissing.

*

When he had first talked to Taeil on the sidewalk during the rainy night, Yanqi had just broken up with him, right before their 7th year anniversary.

It was supposed to be the day he would make it all up to her—I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t text you back, I’m sorry for all the time I didn’t manage to get out of work to have dinner with you, I’m sorry that I would have to propose to you from my office here in Seoul, I’m sorry that we’ll have to wait until I relocate back to Beijing to get married—and eventually have the rest of his life set firmly in stone.

It was supposed to be the day where he would declare to his parents that he did something more to make them even prouder of him. It was supposed to be the day where he would tell his sister in New Zealand that she would have to plan for an engagement party in one year’s time and then a wedding in three years’ time. It was supposed to be the day where he would tell his friends that he did it, he finally did it, he got the girl of his dreams.

It was supposed to—

*

Taeil told him to not worry about fucking him, because it would be exactly like making love to a girl. All he needed to do was to kiss him and tease him with his tongue and lick him everywhere and then put it in and then pull it out and rinse and repeat and whatever.

I like it hard, he said, so just do it, as much as you want, as hard as you want.

Sicheng didn’t think Taeil understood that he didn’t think of it like this.

*

The fourth time he saw Taeil, it was at the same sidewalk and Taeil seemed a little drunk.

Sicheng knew he must be—because only a drunk man would mindlessly jabber on about how he had hated the way his so-called boyfriend had kept their relationship open because he didn’t want to commit and yet, despite all odds, he had fallen for the said boyfriend. Only a drunk man would ramble on and on justifying his feelings for another man who apparently had come into his life like a thunder and made him think that he had found his muse.

I love him, Taeil sighed, I really do. It isn’t because he has been teaching me English, it isn’t because he’s hot as hell and damn he knows how to make me feel good, and it definitely isn’t because he’s the smartest, most talented person I know.

Sicheng didn’t know what to tell him.

The only problem is, Taeil said as he stared mindlessly into space, I think he feels like he isn’t good enough for me.

*

On the day he knew that Teacher Liu had been diagnosed with cancer, Sicheng contemplated telling her about all the things she had taught him and all the things he still kept with him.

He would tell her about the books she gave him that he had successfully taken out of the country and into Seoul with him; how they gave him strength when everything else failed; how he had found proper paperback versions of them when he visited Taipei and bought a few copies for himself and wanted to ask her if she had suggestions on how he would be able to smuggle them back to Beijing.

Perhaps, he thought, he would also explain about his decision to stray away from his intellectual roots in literature and chose to succumb to the allure of materialism in his pursuit of a career in banking.

You won’t be proud of me, he would end the letter, but please be proud of the impact you have left on me.

*

Taeil loved the marks that Jake left on his body. He loved the hickeys below his collarbone, he loved the bite marks on his thighs, he loved the nail scratches on his back. He claimed that it was all a product of passion, a labour of love, and a whole load of other romantic-sounding reasons.

I’m not doing that, Sicheng said firmly as his face contorted in disbelief.

Don’t worry, Taeil said, hooking their pinkies together. It was all consensual, he has never hurt me like that.

_Then why did you cry when I touched the scars?_

*

It rained outside Taeil’s apartment when he decided that yes, Sicheng is pretty much his type and yes, he would like to kiss him.

But Jake is literally a white American man, Sicheng protested. I have nothing in common with him.

My type is what _I think_ my type is, Taeil explained. And I decided that you are.

Sicheng couldn’t argue with that.

*

It didn’t rain that day when Taeil finally confessed that he might be a little in love with Sicheng.

Sicheng decided that his response would be to look away from him, because in his mind, if he didn’t hear it, then it didn’t happen.

Also because it didn’t rain. After all, it rained when they first saw each other, it rain when the kisses happened, it rained when all the sex happened.

It didn’t rain when this confession took place—therefore, it didn’t happen.

*

Sicheng was Yanqi’s first crush, her first love, her first boyfriend—for the longest time, she said in a tearful text message, she had thought that she would definitely marry him.

I had imagined our wedding, she wrote, I had imagined my dresses, I had a list of the girls I would ask to be my bridesmaids. I had thought of all the honeymoon vacations that we would go. I wanted to go to Kyoto with you and see the deers in Nara scare you out of your wits, I wanted to go to visit your sister in New Zealand, I wanted to go to Canada and see the Niagara Falls, I wanted to go to Bolivia and take the pictures of your reflection on the Uyuni Salt Lake, I wanted to do so many things with you.

I’ve thought of the names of our children, and since we can have two now, they would be a boy and a girl. I’ve sought out the schools in Seoul and check if they have quality education for Chinese students there. I’ve reached out to the South Korean branch of our office and told them to consider me if they need someone to fill a position there.

I’ve thought so much about our future life, I really did. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

Sicheng didn’t want to ask the next question, but he needed the answer.

Then, what changed?

*

Taeil said that Jake didn’t want to break up with him, but Taeil wanted to break up because Jake asked to be exclusive.

Was it because of me, Sicheng asked.

Taeil said yes, but Sicheng didn’t want to celebrate.

*

Sicheng chose to come clean to Taeil about Yanqi—about how she used to be his one and only and the sad fact that she would remain a solid ghost in his heart, just like the way Teacher Liu’s words had haunted him for decades.

He was expecting Taeil to be jealous, to be resentful of her, to want to exorcise away her remains in Sicheng’s heart, but Taeil only sighed regretfully.

You were supposed to have the greatest love story of all time, he said. Why did you let it go.

*

Why, indeed, Sicheng asked himself.

*

Objectively speaking, Sicheng could understand Taeil’s attraction towards Jake—he was handsome, he was sexy, he was a damn good guitarist, he was attentive towards Taeil’s needs, and finally, Sicheng could only guess, pretty darn good in bed.

Jake might be Taeil’s personal demon, but in love stories, Sicheng realised, there are no villains.

*

Sicheng could tell that Yanqi had deliberated her answer carefully and he respected her for it.

“Because we no longer love each other.”

Simple as that.

*

In an alternate universe, Sicheng felt like he would have enjoyed Jake and Taeil’s story: an American man from New Hampshire buying himself a one-way ticket to South Korea to pursue his dreams of becoming a musician then finding himself falling in love with a beautiful music producer with an ear for chart-topping hits and an eye for talent. They were so musically connected that before they got to talk with words, they spoke in songs and rhythm. In the olden days, they would have needed to fight with distance and mortality, but as a love story in the 21st century, their battles were psychological: Jake waging a war with the uncertainty of his future while Taeil fought relentlessly with his insecurity and emotional baggages.

And precisely because they were products of a love story in the 21st century, in reality, what didn’t manage to bind them wouldn’t be able to tear them apart.

*

In an alternate universe where Sicheng had taken the courage to pursue a career in Literature, he probably wouldn’t have met Yanqi in the Economics class while they were both studying in Peking University. He would have met her in the Drama Society because she had been a lover of theater while he was devoted to his script-writing craft. He would have written a play with her as the main character and given her the best possible love story. They would have fallen in love anyway and because he wouldn’t have had to move to Seoul, they would have remained in love and eventually marry and have two beautiful babies just like she had wanted.

But the reality was that Sicheng was never brave enough to live up to his beloved teacher’s expectations and eventually, never brave enough to hold on to his perfect love story.

*

The sky didn’t want to rain when Taeil confessed to Sicheng that he might be a little in love with him because it was refusing to mark this as a chapter in the Taeil and Sicheng story.

Songs were written in verses, poems were read in stanzas, books were written in chapters—Sicheng knew that their story would be written in the sounds of the rainy days and the tunes that came with them.

*

I had enough, Taeil said. I’m breaking up with him, but it’s not because of you.

*

So Sicheng said to Taeil: I’m moving back to Beijing, I’m going to confront my personal demons. I’ll apologise to Yanqi and wish her luck in her wedding.

I’ll find Teacher Liu and tell her about the poem I have just written about you.

*

Taeil said that he confessed about being a little in love with him because he wanted to see him again—once I stop being a mess, that is, he promised.

And then I’ll tell you that my name is Taeil, I’m a music producer, and I’m waiting to see the man of my dreams.

*

Sicheng would want it to rain when they meet again and it definitely would, because the universe worked in that comically tragic way, and he would be the most eager to meet him.

Hi, he would say, my name is Sicheng.

I’m an author who writes in the language of poems.

*


End file.
